


Babe, I Need The Thrill

by nerdwegian



Series: Clint/Phil/Steve dp 'verse [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bottom Clint, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spitroasting, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/pseuds/nerdwegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can we--can we--with both?" Clint gets out; words are suddenly very difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babe, I Need The Thrill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [torakowalski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/gifts).



> So this one time, Tora said, "You should write me cocks," and I did.
> 
> Thank you so much to [ralkana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana) for the beta and to [bliss116](http://bliss116.tumblr.com/) for the help. <333

It's very late when Clint gets back to the tower. The debriefings and interrogations have taken hours, and by the time all the representatives from every alphabet soup agency Clint can think of seem satisfied with his answers as to why a large portion of Brooklyn is in rubble, it's nearly midnight. Clint is so tired he doesn't even know what to do with himself, but he doesn't think sleep will come easily. He's not even sure why people seem so pissed at him, because there were no casualties, which in itself is a fucking miracle, and Clint _stopped_ the big--whatever. Overgrown lizard. He didn't have the Avengers to back him up.

Although, Clint supposes in retrospect, that might've been the problem. He's not technically supposed to, uh, Avenge, without his team. But listen, it's not like he was just going to sit by while a giant lizard was knocking down buildings left and right.

Frustrated and exhausted, Clint goes to the tower gym instead of going to bed, not even bothering to change out of his field uniform first. He knows Phil--and probably the others, too--are looking for him, but he doesn't want to deal with them right now, and punching the hell out of one of Tony's reinforced heavy bags seems like a fucking brilliant idea. He feels restless and annoyed and exhausted all at once, and he'll either hit something repeatedly, or lose his mind.

Moving into the tower was, for the most part, a good decision. Clint likes the quarters he shares with Phil, but it's become harder to find time for himself. The world keeps changing around Clint, and he's constantly adapting to new situations--a new world, a new team, a new set of rules to play by. He should be used to it by now, he thinks, since god knows life has thrown him enough curveballs. But as it turns out, he can still get overwhelmed, overrun, and he needs an _outlet_ , dammit.

He's been at the bag for maybe thirty minutes, and has just had time to work up a sweat, when Steve finds him.

"There you are," Steve says easily, because Steve's awesome like that. It's been six months since Steve spent a really fucking fantastic--no pun intended--night with Phil and Clint, and since then he seems to have gotten, if possible, even better at reading Clint's moods in a split second. Right now, all he has to do is step into the gym, and his entire body language changes. He seems to sense that too much blatant concern wouldn't be welcome, so he just smiles steadily at Clint and walks over.

"Here I am," Clint agrees, punching the bag one final time before turning to face Steve fully, panting a little with exertion. He still feels like his skin is itching with the need to move, but the buzzing in his mind has settled a little, at least, and he likes Steve. "Whatcha need, Cap?"

"Just worried about you," Steve says, confirming Clint's suspicions, even though he still doesn't look or sound concerned. "They give you any grief?"

"What do you think?" Clint snorts. "Oh, uh, there might possibly be a hearing soon, about protocols to follow for solo Avengering or whatever, so, y'know, sorry about that."

Steve rolls his eyes in the way that reminds Clint how far he really is from the public image he likes to project. "Whatever," Steve says. "Wasn't your fault. What are we supposed to do, _not_ protect people when Godzilla is roaming free? Forget that."

"Wasn't quite Godzilla sized," Clint says, shrugging, "but I get your point. And I definitely agree. Still, fucking hate that I'm the one who got us into this bullshit."

"Like I said, not your fault," Steve repeats, levelling his gaze at Clint.

Steve's got this way around the team, this particular look, that makes Clint want to sit up and salute. Like he _cares_ so much that Clint pretty much always wants to tell him the truth. For someone who's as used to keeping shit to himself as Clint, that's pretty horrible sometimes. "You gonna be okay?" Steve asks, and _there's_ that look.

Averting his eyes, Clint punches the heavy bag again and changes the subject instead. "Where's Phil?"

"I think he went to the range," Steve explains. "To be honest, I thought you'd be there."

"I wanted to burn off some energy," Clint explains, eyes still locked on the bag as he hits it again, sloppily this time. "Shooting relaxes me, but doesn't burn energy."

"Need some help?" Steve says, and Clint's head snaps around so fast he's surprised he doesn't give himself whiplash.

Steve's hands, which had been in his pockets, come up to flail in Clint's general direction. "Not like _that_ ," Steve says quickly, although his face is turning a pretty attractive shade of red, and it makes Clint smile a little. "I just meant, I could run some drills with you, or spar, or--something."

Clint considers for a moment. "What if I want it like that?" he asks, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with Steve.

Steve's flailing stops, and he tilts his head, almost curiously. His blush deepens, but he still powers on, bold as ever. "You do?"

Clint thinks about it for a few more seconds, takes note of his cock stirring in his pants, and then nods. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Why wouldn't I?"

Steve looks at Clint for a long moment, and steps closer, into Clint's personal space, one hand settling on the heavy bag and the other reaching out to carefully touch Clint's wrist.

"Really?"

Clint's breathing picks up as Steve takes another step closer, and he nods again, eyes drawn to Steve's lips as a pink tongue darts out to wet them. "Yeah," Clint says, then has to clear his throat when it comes out all breathy and weird-sounding. "Yeah." Intentionally letting his voice rasp this time, he adds, "Remember when you and Phil fucked me at the same time? 'Cause that was pretty awesome."

There's a slight hitch in Steve's breath, and he's so close now that Clint can feel it on his face.

"Phil won't mind?"

Clint considers this for less than a second. They haven't explicitly talked about this, not in the way they talk about other things as far as their sex life is concerned, where there are actual lists and notes and rules and ideas, all written out in Phil's chickenscratch. But there _is_ a slight possibility the topic of Steve has come up a couple of times since--well, _since_.

"He won't mind," Clint says, confident he isn't lying, and then he's being literally lifted off his feet. His legs come up to wrap around Steve's waist on reflex, and he clings to Steve's wide shoulders. The startled yelp at the back of his throat never gets fully voiced, because Steve puts his lips on Clint's and kisses the hell out of him.

Clint's entire body _sings_ when his back hits the wall, and he vividly remembers Steve carrying him, much in the same way, into the bedroom of their old place. At the time, it was something he hadn't thought he'd get to have again. Now, trapped against the wall with Steve's weight pressing into him, Clint feels like he was a fool for ever considering giving this up forever.

Steve wasn't hard when he first picked Clint up, but Clint can feel him now, growing thick in his sweat pants, and Clint grinds down, tries to find some friction for his own erection, but the angle is making it difficult. He settles for arching into Steve's lower abdomen, which works better, but leaves Steve without much to grind against.

When they finally break apart from their kissing, they're both breathing heavily and they're both hard. Steve rests his forehead against Clint's and licks his lips, panting.

"We should go find Phil," Steve says, sounding serious.

"No, by all means, keep going," Phil says, sounding warmly amused, and Steve jerks back so fast he almost drops Clint. Clint lands on his feet, but it's slightly jarring since it makes his erection strain against his pants.

"Phil, I, oh," Steve says, and that makes Clint laugh out loud.

"Hi, Phil," he says, smirking at where Phil's leaning against the doorway, wearing pants and a shirt, but no tie or jacket. He looks amused, but there's a telltale flush to his cheeks that Clint instantly recognizes, and he knows it's got nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

Steve looks a little unsure. "Is this, I mean--Clint said that you wouldn't mind?"

For a second, Clint's really offended. He wouldn't lie to Steve, and he definitely wouldn't cheat on Phil! But then Steve takes a step closer to Clint again and slides a strong arm around Clint's waist, and Clint gives in to the urge to just _melt_ against Steve's side. Steve's sweat pants are hiding less than nothing, and Phil's eyes drift across the two of them, down to Steve's crotch and back up, before finally settling on Clint's face.

"Maybe the gym isn't the best venue for this," Phil says, smiling. Without waiting, he turns around and leaves the gym, and Steve and Clint glance at each other and follow, arms still around each other.

*

It's not until they get into Phil and Clint's bedroom that the tension seems to ramp up. Steve, who's still got his arm around Clint, looks at Phil with expectation, sucking in a sharp breath when Phil starts unbuttoning his shirt, looking as casual and confident as always.

"How do you want to do this?" Steve asks.

Phil's smile grows a little wider as he looks at Clint. "Ask Clint."

All the possibilities slam into Clint's mind, and for a moment he's completely overwhelmed. He has a vivid flashback to Steve holding him in place, of being stretched across both Steve and Phil's cocks, and he doesn't realize that his jaw's dropped and he's licking his lips until Steve ducks in to capture his mouth in a kiss again.

Steve kisses like he does most other things, bold and unafraid, which baffles Clint a little. It's also a contrast to how Phil kisses, soft but confident and bringing with it a sense of belonging. Steve kisses like he wants to conquer, and it's ridiculously hot. Clint moans into Steve's mouth, hands pulling at the waistband of Steve's sweat pants, and from somewhere near the bed, Phil chuckles.

"You still haven't told us how you want to do this," Phil says warmly, and Clint breaks out of the kiss with Steve when Phil's hands slide around his waist, one coming down to rub at Clint's crotch. Phil's bare chest presses against Clint's back, and then Clint's surrounded, Steve in front of him and Phil behind him. Clint's hips doesn't know whether they want to move forward, into Steve and into Phil's warm palm, or back, to press his ass against Phil, who is, for some reason, still in his boxers.

"Can we--can we--with both?" Clint gets out; words are suddenly very difficult.

"At the same time again?" Phil asks, leaning in so he can kiss along Clint's neck, nosing into the collar of his uniform.

In front of Clint, Steve makes that inhale-noise again, before grinding forward with a frustrated huff because his sweat pants still haven't gotten past his hips. Nodding, Clint says, "Yes, yes," and manages to get both hands inside Steve's pants, palming his perfect ass and pulling him closer.

Steve leans down, kisses Clint again, and says, "Yeah, that sounds--there's--there's a thing," into the kiss.

Trying to focus, Clint pulls away, but Steve's looking at Phil now, like he's asking permission. "There's a thing," Steve repeats, words coming steadily now that his lips are no longer attached to Clint's, even if his voice sounds a little hoarse.

"What did you have in mind?" Phil asks patiently. His hands have started undoing the buckles of Clint's uniform, and Clint tries to focus on the conversation, even though his hips keep moving.

"I," Steve says, blushing bright red, "last time we did this, Clint was using his mouth."

"I can do that," Clint says eagerly, almost before Steve's finished his sentence, and he's not even embarrassed at how breathy he sounds. He pushes Steve's sweat pants down and then gets a hand around Steve's dick, pumps it a few times while rubbing his thumb across the tip just because he likes how it makes Steve shudder. "I can definitely do that."

He's halfway to slithering down between Phil and Steve when a hand on his arm stops him, and he looks up at where Steve's still looking at Phil over Clint's shoulder. "It was at the same time as you--"

Steve doesn't seem quite sure how to finish the sentence, but Phil definitely understands anyway, judging by how his smile widens. Clint thinks back, tries to remember through the haze of horniness, and when he does, a full-body shiver takes him. He remembers Phil behind him, cock buried in Clint's ass, and Steve in front of him--

"Yes," Clint says quickly, looking back at Phil and nodding. "Yes."

Clint knows they should move; there's a really big bed right there, soft and inviting. But despite that, despite knowing what's ahead, Clint really wants to get his mouth on Steve's dick _right now_. Leaning back to kiss Phil once, deeply, taking a moment to lick into his mouth and realize it's the first time they've kissed tonight, Clint smiles at Phil when he pulls back, before sliding to his knees between Steve and Phil, and closing his lips around Steve's dick.

It's exhilarating, sucking Steve off again. Despite remembering the last time they did this, Clint can't quite recall the fine details of it. Steve feels new and exciting in his mouth, the weight and taste unfamiliar, but addicting all the same. Licking across the head, Clint sucks hard, wanting to taste precome, before taking Steve deeper. Above him, there's a faint sound, like a choked off moan, and Clint isn't even sure if it's Steve or Phil; he doesn't really care.

Clint starts moving his head and uses one hand to pump the base of Steve's dick. He's gotten better at cocksucking, he thinks, since he's been with Phil, but he's still not quite mastered deepthroating, and Steve's not a small man in any aspect. Still, he does his best to get Steve's dick nice and wet, sucking sloppily and eagerly.

Phil shifts, crowds into Clint a little more, knees knocking lightly against his side, and that makes Clint look up, angling his head so he can continue sucking Steve off. One of Steve's hands has settled loosely at the nape of Clint's neck, but the other is now holding onto Phil's hand, fingers twining together, and Steve's looking at Phil wide-eyed and panting.

"Coulson--Phil, I, can I--"

Phil, who's gotten his own dick out and looks decidedly less calm and collected than normal, nods like he's in a daze, before Steve has even asked his question.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve asks, although he's already leaning in, and Phil nods again, mutely, which Clint would laugh at if he didn't have his mouth full at the moment.

It's interesting, the way Phil's body language changes when he kisses Steve. He's tentative and careful, like he can't believe this is really happening to him, and for some reason, his free hand, the hand that's not squeezing Steve's fingers, comes down to grip Clint's hair, fingers tangling in the strands and pulling. When Phil and Steve break their kiss, they both look down at Clint, and Clint's dick practically jumps between his legs and starts salivating, because Phil's eyes have such heat in them. There's a spark in his gaze that makes Clint's eyes flutter shut for a moment, because it's a fucking rush to be here, between Steve and Phil. As soon as his eyes are closed, Phil's pulling on his hair again, and Clint lets Phil guide the movements of his head, bobbing up and down on Steve's cock.

"God," Steve breathes, pressing even closer to Phil. Clint forces his eyes open again in time to see Steve let go of Phil's hand so he can cup the back of Phil's head and pull him in for another kiss. Phil's less hesitant this time, and so is Steve, practically ravaging Phil's mouth and leaving his lips spit-slick and swollen, and Clint moans around Steve's dick and takes him as deep as he can.

When Phil's hands pull at his head next, he moves far enough back that Steve's dick slips out of his mouth, and Clint moans at the loss, but then Phil juts his hips forward, and Clint understands. He wraps one hand around Steve, the other around Phil, and gets to work, still letting Phil's hands guide him.

There's something incredible about having one dick in each hand, alternating between sucking them. It's harder than it looks in porn. Coordination is the biggest challenge, but Clint tries. He tries jerking Steve off with one hand while tonguing the spot at the underside of Phil's dick that Clint knows is extra sensitive, and he tries taking Steve as deep as possible while smearing Phil's precome around Phil's cockhead. He's not sure how well he succeeds, but he's got plenty of enthusiasm for it, anyway. It makes Clint feel needy and wanton, like a cockslut straight out of porn. Judging by the labored breathing and periodic groans above him, Phil and Steve are having similar thoughts. Clint wants them to give in; he wants them to grab him and use him however they wish, pull his hair, mark him up, and take whatever they want.

Clint's not sure how long it goes on for--he loses track of time a little. It's Phil who eventually says, sounding out of breath and desperate, "Okay, okay, we have to move," and tugs at Clint's hair to get him to stand up again.

"I was having fun," Clint complains, only half serious. His voice is raw and rough from cocksucking, and he loves how it makes both Phil and Steve look at him like they're _hungry_ for him.

"Come on," Phil says, nudging Clint. "You're still way overdressed."

"So are you," Clint says pointedly, but he does concede the point that while Phil's down to his boxers and Steve's only wearing a t-shirt and his sweats around his thighs, Clint's still in his full field uniform.

"No uniforms in bed," Phil says, getting back to unbuckling Clint.

"Think of the kinky roleplay, though," Clint smirks, and that makes Steve choke on air. Still, big hands reach out to start unbuckling Clint's other side. It's downright erotic, having the two of them help Clint out of his uniform, help him shed Hawkeye and become just Clint, just the man underneath, and when Clint's naked between them, he feels vulnerable and small, longing to crawl into their warmth and draw strength from their touch.

"Get onto the bed," Phil says to Clint, and it's an order, but it's spoken softly.

Clint crawls onto the mattress on all fours, and if he sticks his ass out a little more than necessary--a blatant invitation if there ever was one--well, who can blame him?

When he looks over his shoulder, Phil's ditched his boxers and Steve's just pulling his shirt over his head. It's only a moment before they're both on him again, Phil blanketing Clint's back with his dick settling between Clint's ass cheeks, and Steve lying down next to Clint in order to reach for the hard cock between his legs.

Steve's grip is perfect, and Clint's eyes flutter shut for just a moment as his body tries to curl down and inwards. "God," Clint breathes, hips moving back toward Phil's cock nestled between his asscheeks, and then thrusting forward into Steve's hand.

"Get on your back," Phil says, reaching past Clint to the nightstand, so he can get out the lube. Clint will, he swears he will, but he needs one more moment of this, of being trapped between Phil's hips and Steve's hand, and if he can just keep thrusting for a little bit, if Steve would just tighten his grip the slightest--

The light smack to his hip is enough to startle him, and Clint's eyes fly open. He hadn't even realized he'd closed them again.

"On your back," Phil says again, a stricter order this time, and Clint obeys without a word, but smirks a little anyway.

Steve looks at Clint like he's never seen anything so hot before in his life, and as soon as Clint flips over, legs spread and hard cock flopping against his belly, Steve's on him. Leaning in from the side, Steve sucks Clint's cock into his mouth--and Clint couldn't hold back his loud groan if he was paid for it.

The whole room does an interesting wobble as Steve works on sucking Clint's cock as thoroughly as Clint sucked his, and when Clint regains his focus, Phil's staring at them both with such heat in his gaze that it makes something tingle in Clint's chest.

"Phil," Clint says--more of a sigh, really--before beckoning to him with both hands.

Phil, momentarily frozen with the tube of lube in his hand, snaps out of it, but instead of leaning down over Steve's bobbing head to kiss Clint like Clint had expected, he hunkers down between Clint's legs and puts his mouth on Clint's balls, right near where Steve's got those pretty lips wrapped around Clint's shaft.

"Oh god," Clint whimpers, "oh god," because now there's two of them, two sets of lips, two tongues, doing their very best to drive him absolutely fucking crazy, and he hasn't even been penetrated yet. Clint loves bottoming, loves assplay, loves Phil's fingers, cock, toys, against his prostate--but this? Phil and Steve both working his cock and his balls with their mouths? Well, it's rapidly becoming a huge thing for Clint.

Steve does something with his tongue, something Clint can't describe because it's all just wet and pressure and wonderful, wonderful suction, and then, as it turns out, _Steve_ can deepthroat! Phil moans, and Clint raises his head, tries to see, but it's hard to get a good line of sight. Phil and Steve's heads are pressed together, and it's almost blurring a bit for Clint, all becoming just a mass of sensation and _soft_ and _wet_.

When Steve swallows around him and starts moving his head, taking him equally deep on every downstroke, Clint builds towards orgasm at a frightening pace, and he frantically pushes at both of them--the parts he can reach anyway. "Stop, stop, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna--you gotta stop!"

Steve pulls off Clint's dick with a obscene slurp and a laugh that makes Clint want to grab him and kiss him forever, fondness spreading through his limbs.

Steve doesn't move too far, just stays at Clint's side and kisses his torso, flicks his tongue across Clint's nipples, and runs a hand across Clint's overheated skin as Phil sits back on his heels and gets the lube open.

Phil's fingers sliding into Clint's body are familiar, yet they make Clint's heartbeat pick up again, anticipation building.

"Wow," Steve remarks quietly, sounding both impressed and amused, because Phil started with two fingers, and it's even easier now than it was the last time they did this. Clint's an eager bottom and rarely needs much prep anymore, and he loves that Steve seems so impressed by this. Loves that it makes him feel slutty and horny and there for the taking.

He clings to Steve, pulls him up so they can kiss each other while Phil continues working Clint open, and by the time Steve's sucking on Clint's tongue and scraping his fingernails across Clint's nipples, Phil's three fingers deep in Clint's ass.

"Steve," Phil says, and there's something in his voice, like he wants to get Steve's attention for a specific reason.

Clint doesn't whine in complaint when Steve breaks the kiss and pulls away to see what Phil wants, but it's a near thing. On his back like this, with his legs spread and nobody directly above him, he feels exposed and vulnerable, and he would prefer to keep Steve close. When he looks at Phil between his legs, though, Clint changes his mind, since Phil's got himself in hand and is lining up, and suddenly Clint doesn't care about anything but getting Phil's dick in him _right_ this second.

Phil's looking at Steve, however, and he nods his head past Clint. "That way," he says. It makes Steve move across the bed, past Clint's head, and for a moment Clint can't quite comprehend what's happening when Steve's hands suddenly grab him and pull.

"What--?" Clint starts to ask, but then his head tips back, hanging upside down off the edge of the bed where Steve's standing, erection bobbing just a few inches from Clint's face. At the same time, he can feel the bed dip as Phil follows, nudging Clint's legs apart and back, and-- _oh_.

Clint's mouth starts watering. "Oh," is all he manages.

Phil chuckles. "Thought you'd be okay with this," he says, and then Clint can feel the blunt head of Phil's cock press against his asshole. Phil's hands settle on Clint's thighs as he pushes in, with Clint bent nearly in half and still staring at Steve's very, very inviting dick.

"Yes," Clint says, breath hitching as Phil bottoms out and stays there, mostly still, hips just moving the tiniest bit, like he can't help it. Clint wants him to thrust, to take, and _god_ , Clint loves getting fucked. "Yes, very okay with this, very, very--"

"We can tell," Steve says, the smile evident in his voice. He takes Clint's hands and guides them to grip Steve's thighs, then says, "Tap my leg if you need me to pull back, okay?"

And because Steve's Steve, he waits for Clint's nod and croaked, "Okay," before he reaches down to guide his cock in between Clint's lips, and then Clint can't talk anymore.

For a moment, Clint can't focus. At all. It's just sensation, stretched from Phil's cock, stretched from Steve's cock, ass full, mouth full, _body_ full--and then it all crashes into him all at once, and he moans once, loudly, around Steve's hard length. "Good," Phil breathes, and suddenly they're both moving.

Clint had expected Phil to set the pace, he'd expected Steve to be the careful one--but instead, Phil starts rocking in and out of Clint's ass, not slow, exactly, but certainly slower than Clint was anticipating. Steve, on the other hand, immediately slides his cock so far forward that Clint's fingers automatically squeeze Steve's thigh as he almost chokes on it. It feels amazing, and Clint's own dick jumps between his legs, untouched and left to bounce lightly against his abdomen as Phil and Steve thrust into him.

Steve's cock is surprisingly easy to take at this angle. The way it curves slightly seems to fit perfectly into Clint's mouth, and something unfurls in his chest. Small whimpers and grunts escape him with every thrust, and Clint's legs strain lightly against Phil's grip on his thighs. He can't see what Phil and Steve are doing above him, so he keeps his eyes closed for the most part and lets himself _feel_. Every now and then, however, he can feel the bed dip as they shift above him, feel them lean in together as Phil pushes his legs further apart, and he imagines them kissing, leaning their foreheads together and looking down at Clint, spread out for them to do with as they please.

Steve's cock presses further and further in, and at first, Clint nearly chokes with every thrust--but then he finds the rhythm, learns to anticipate it, and starts working on relaxing his throat.

The first thrust that takes Steve all the way into Clint's throat makes Steve groan loudly above him, and his rhythm falters slightly. Clint, for his part, nearly comes right then and there, and every muscle in his body clenches up on him, because holy _shit_ , he's taking Steve all the way down, he's deepthroating, and his fingers dig so hard into Steve's thighs he'd be leaving bruises if Steve were anyone else.

Phil gasps above him, and Clint can practically hear the horniness in that little, needy sound. Leaning down, Phil presses a kiss to Clint's throat, and on the next thrust in, Steve stops and holds his cock there for a few moments, his balls pressed against Clint's nose. Phil kisses Clint's throat again, licks across his adam's apple, and Clint swallows on reflex, nearly gags, then swallows again, so turned on that he's nearly out of his mind with it.

He wonders if they could film this. He wants to see. Pressure is building at his temples, but he doesn't even care, because he's taking dick at both ends, and he feels like all he wants to do for the rest of his days is just stay here and let Phil and Steve use him. They're warm, they're strong, they're safe.

When Steve pulls back out, his cock slips completely free of Clint's lips for a moment, letting Clint catch his breath, and Clint gasps for air, spit following Steve's cockhead and dribbling down Clint's cheek.

"Shit, that's hot," Phil says, and his voice is hoarse and raw. His thrusts have sped up, and Clint moans again and clenches around Phil, wants to say something, although he's not quite sure what, but it ends up not mattering, because Steve's cock presses back into his mouth, sliding across his tongue.

Clint whines at the back of his throat as Phil pushes back up, and a moment later he can feel Phil's fingers gingerly skirt around where he's buried in Clint, pushing against the ring of muscle and then rubbing more lube onto the stretched skin there. "Need a little more prep for this," Phil murmurs. "Have to get you nice and loose for us. Come on, Clint. Come on."

Clint's next sound is cut off when Steve thrusts deep again, and Clint's _desperate_ now for a hand, a touch, anything, because his dick is starting to feel seriously neglected. He could reach down, grab himself in hand, but at the same time he doesn't want to let go of Steve's thighs. They're solid and strong under his palms, and he loves feeling the muscles there, loves feeling the slight tremors that sometimes go through Steve.

Steve's next thrust produces a faintly gurgling sort of sound from the back of Clint's throat, and Steve makes a ridiculous sex-sound, a kind of half-choked groan that makes Clint's dick jump and Phil's fingers twitch against his asshole.

One of Phil's fingers presses in, enters Clint easily alongside Phil's dick, and Clint _keens_ , tries to work his tongue against Steve's cock, and fails completely, because his entire body has turned into one single, giant nerve ending. He's oversensitive and twitchy, and he feels like he can't move. His entire existence has narrowed down to this, to being just for Steve and Phil, existing as a warm body for them to put their dicks into, and Clint feels _drunk_ with it.

A second finger joins the first, easy as nothing, and Phil pulls on the rim of Clint's asshole. When Phil speaks, he sounds a little bit like he's in a tunnel. "Come on, Steve, I think he's ready."

Clint _knows_ what Phil is saying, but he doesn't really want to process it yet. He doesn't ease his grip on Steve's thighs, and Steve doesn't stop thrusting, grunting, "I am, I am close, I just--"

Clint's blindsided by the image of Steve coming in his mouth like this, Clint's head upside down and all the blood currently not occupying his erection rushing to his head. Steve would probably push all the way in again, coming and coming. Clint thinks he would be able to feel it in Steve's balls as they brush across his face. He wonders if he'd choke on Steve's come, if it would run down his face, or if he'd be able to take it all, swallow it down even at this angle.

He doesn't get to find out, because suddenly Steve is pulling out, more spit following his cock, and then _Phil_ is pulling out too, and Clint gapes and gasps and nearly wails at the loss. He doesn't have time to do anything more than paw faintly at Steve's thighs, however, before strong hands grab his shoulder and push him up. It immediately gives him a headrush, and while it's not the worst one he's ever had, it damn sure _feels_ that way. Clint's head lolls to the side, and he lets the dizziness wash over him, safe in the knowledge that he's in good hands. Phil's holding onto his hips, steadying him, and Steve kneels on the bed, letting Clint rest his back against him and catch his breath.

It only takes a few moments to get everyone set up--same position as last time, Clint thinks numbly--with Phil on his back, Clint sitting in his lap, and Steve kneeling behind them. Phil almost immediately slides his cock back in, Clint's body easily yielding to it, and Clint sighs happily, placing his hands on Phil's chest as his eyes flutter shut again. Steve crowds into him from behind, and then Steve's cock, still slick with Clint's spit, and even _more_ slick with extra lube, presses up against Clint's already filled hole.

"Ready?" Steve asks in Clint's ear, voice warm and sure and so very _safe_ , and Clint practically melts back against Steve.

"Do it," he agrees with a nod, gasping as Steve presses in.

It burns. It burns, but it doesn't hurt, and it burns in the _best_ way. Clint is going to come apart at the seams, he can feel it. He's so full, he feels like he might burst, and time is frozen around him. That's okay, as long as he never has to leave this bed again. Never has to lose the feeling of Phil and Steve in him, around him, at the same time.

Steve bottoms out, setting the pace almost immediately, far less careful with Clint this time than he was the last time, at least to start with. Clint loves it, loves that Steve trusts him to let them know if they're crossing his limits, and he reaches one hand back to grasp at Steve's hips, the other scrabbling for purchase on Phil's sweaty chest.

Steve's head comes down, not really resting on Clint's shoulder, but just touching as one hand comes up and wipe at Clint's face, at his cheeks and jaw, and Clint hadn't even realized how messy he was until just now. The thought draws more noises from him, because that's Steve's precome on his face, and spit, and he must look so sloppy. Underneath him, Phil makes a broken sound and hitches his hips upwards, not getting very far with Steve and Clint on top of him, but trying his damndest all the same.

"You feel so good," Steve murmurs, panting and kissing and nibbling on Clint's skin. "So good, so good..."

"Will you come, Clint?" Phil asks, voice strained. "Like this--for us?"

Clint hasn't forgotten his own dick, per se, except--he kind of has. Phil's words send shivers down his spine, and he forces his eyes open and straightens up enough to grab his dick with one hand, still leaning on Phil with the other as he starts jerking himself off. It's immediately electrifying, muscles tensing because he doesn't think anything has ever felt this good.

Steve wraps his arms around Clint's chest in a bear hug, and his thrusts grow bolder, harder. Clint leans his head back and manages to draw Steve in for a kiss, and he's so close, he's so close, his ass is on fire and he feels cocooned in Steve and Phil and their care for him.

When Clint comes, it's like the orgasm is punched out of him, and he doesn't quite know what's up and what's down. He's probably making a lot of noise. He's not sure. He gasps and trembles and sees spots in his vision before the pleasure finally ebbs away and he's left boneless and blissfully spent. His body tries to collapse forward onto Phil's chest, but Steve's arms are still around him, and Steve won't let him go. Steve won't let him fall.

"God," Phil breathes as Clint's world swims back into focus. Phil's got Clint's come splattered across his chest and belly, clinging to his sparse chest hair, and his eyes are blank and hooded as he stares at Clint, open-mouthed and in awe. "You're so amazing, Clint, you're amazing, I'm so close--"

Clint can't speak in return, he's still trying to make his brain connect, but he digs his fingers into Phil's skin, fingernails scratching him, and manages to flail the other hand upwards and back to cup the back of Steve's neck, nuzzling into Steve as he holds Phil's gaze, and says, "Yes, yeah, do it, come in me--"

Steve comes first, and somewhat unexpectedly, judging by the way he gasps into Clint's ear. Clint moans as he can feel it, both from the warmth inside and in the way Steve's cock spasms, and his fingers grasp for the short strands of hair at the nape of Steve's neck. Steve's muscles tremble, arms flexing around Clint's torso, and when he's finally done, they wobble together. Keeping upright is difficult, but they probably shouldn't both collapse on top of Phil.

Phil makes another broken sound and tries to move again, bucking desperately upwards as his hands squeeze Clint's hips. The movements aren't big, but they seem to be working for him anyway, eyes fluttering shut and then opening wide again, as if he wants to keep them open but is unable to. His breaths are coming faster, and he's trying to thrust deeper.

When Phil's movements finally push Steve's softening cock out of the way, Clint has a moment to feel Steve's come run out of him. Everything gets so very wet and slick, and he inhales sharply, losing his breath before he manages to clench up around Phil again, wanting Phil to feel good, and also wanting to keep as much of Steve's come in him as possible.

Behind Clint, Steve groans and manages to press a sloppy kiss to Clint's cheek before carefully climbing off Phil. Then he just sort of collapses onto the bed next to them, rolling over onto his side and watching the spot where Phil and Clint are joined together with a faint smile on his lips.

"Oh my god," Phil says, thrusting harder, and it feels good, it still feels so good, and Clint's so tired, but his head has cleared a little, and he wants Phil to come, so he scrapes a nail across one of Phil's nipples, licks his lips and moves his hips to meet Phil's thrusts--

Phil's eyes squeeze shut when he comes, and his head presses back into the pillow, body going taut and hips pausing at the very top of their upwards movement. Clint's ass is so fucking wet, and he barely manages to keep himself together long enough for Phil to finish coming.

As soon as Phil's body relaxes, sinking into the mattress as he sighs contentedly, Clint gives in and just sort of pitches forward. He doesn't care that he's getting his own come smeared down his front. He can feel all the come in his ass leaking out around Phil's dick, and Clint just does not care at all anymore.

"Fuck," he manages appreciatively, surfing on his happy endorphins.

It would probably be easier to slide off Phil and lie down on his other side, but that's not what Clint wants. Instead, he carefully moves off Phil, loving the little half-groan Phil makes when his cock leaves Clint's body. He wedges himself into the space between Steve and Phil, curling up on his side against Steve's solid form and closing his eyes. Steve chuckles, and it sends a puff of air against Clint's forehead.

Phil shifts behind him, and one of Phil's hands settles on Clint's flank, fingers rubbing carefully.

Clint drifts a little, happy and _calm_ for the first time that evening, and he finally feels like he can get some good rest. "Feel better?" Steve asks, words making his chest rumble.

"Yes," Clint says happily, then adds, "Mind reader."

There's another puff of air against Clint's forehead, and he smiles, but whatever snark he was about to unleash gets lost on a gasp as Phil's fingers drift down between his ass cheeks. Two fingers rub against his oversensitive hole, smearing come and slick around before they push in. Clint moans, but Phil's fingers are moving without any real intent, just playing.

"So," Steve says, and Clint can hear the smirk in his voice. "Not that I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, here, but what happened to this being a one-time thing?"

Phil's breathing is evening out in the way that means he's thinking very hard about something, and trying to find the best way to phrase it. Clint can tell.

"I think it's something we need to discuss further," Phil eventually says, and it feels obscene, having this conversation when his fingers are still sliding carefully in and out of Clint. It feels good, though Clint can't get hard again so soon, and he's very sleepy too, so he just tries to keep very still and focus on what Phil's saying.

"I think we had fun," Phil says, and Clint can imagine him smiling like the dork he is. It makes Clint laugh.

"Damn right we had fun," he agrees, pushing further into Steve's body.

"Trust me, you weren't the only ones," Steve replies, putting his arm around the both of them. "You should talk about it, of course. I'm good with this being a--well, a two-times thing, I guess--or a however-many-times thing. It's all up to you guys. But I do have to say, I wouldn't object to..." He trails off for a moment, as if searching for words.

"Repeat performances?" Phil suggests helpfully.

There's a pleased rumble in Steve's chest. "Yeah. That."

Clint's starting to be a little loopy with sleep, and that's the only excuse he has for saying, "Psht, my ass is magic, you'll want it forever."

For a moment, all movement stills both in front and behind him, and then both Steve and Phil start laughing. Phil's fingers slip out of Clint, and it makes Clint whine a little, but at the same time he's grateful, because he's not sure he could actually sleep with Phil doing that.

Shifting around so he's facing Phil, Clint opens one eye the tiniest bit and looks at Phil. Phil is smiling, and he looks sleepy and happy, crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, and a hint of stubble on his chin. "Hey," Clint says.

"Hey," Phil says back, halfway to touching Clint's face before he seems to realize that his fingers are still sticky, and his face does a hilarious thing as he wipes his hand on the sheet. It makes Clint laugh, and he can feel Steve do the same behind him.

"A magic ass, huh?" Phil teases.

"Shut up," Clint grumbles, burying his face against the pillow. "I'm sleepy, leave me alone."

Clint can feel it more than hear it when Phil laughs a little, before settling down again. "I love you," Phil says quietly, and Clint closes his eye again and basks in it. A couple of moments later, however, he notices that Steve's gone very, very still behind him.

"I should probably ask for some clarification here," Steve says, sounding awkward.

Phil fumbles for a moment, and Clint opens one eye again, annoyed with the movement. It's not sexy movement. It's not soothing movement. Phil needs to stop flailing.

"I didn't mean to," Phil starts, then tries again, "I do--care about you, Captain--Steve, but," and that makes Clint snort.

"Captain Steve," he mumbles.

"When I said I wouldn't mind--repeat performances," Steve tries, at the same time as Phil says, "We didn't intend to lead you on."

"This sucks," Clint declares, interrupting them both, because all he wants to do is go to sleep, and Steve and Phil are disturbing him with their awkwardness. "Steve, Phil was talking to me. Do you want this to be more than just sex? Because if you do, I think we gotta have a talk, and it might not be a fun one."

"No," Steve sighs, and he sounds very, very relieved.

"There," Clint says, hugging Phil close. "Done. Sleepy now. I've had a long day. I killed Godzilla."

"I thought you said it wasn't Godzilla-sized," Steve says, back to normal now that he's apparently been assured that the sex isn't about to get messy. Well, emotionally messy, anyway.

"It will be when I tell other people about it," Clint says happily.

Behind him, Steve chuckles, and in front of him, Phil kisses his forehead, and Clint smiles and falls asleep in the safe harbor of Phil and Steve's arms.

End.


End file.
